They both give me a small wave.
“Enjoy the rest of your vacation,” Sarah says.
“You too,” I reply, slumping back against the lounger.
Honey starts to walk around the deck, so I pull my hat down, trying to be inconspicuous. Kind of hard when I’m wearing my honeybee shorts, but hopefully, she’ll be too busy looking for a lounger to notice me.
I track her under my sunglasses as she crosses the deck, and when she finds a lounger near the pool steps, she sets her book down and then reaches up and shrugs the robe off her shoulders.
I stop reading the contract.
I think I also stop breathing.
She’s wearing a white bandeau bikini with a top that is shoving her tits together, creating a deep, inviting line of cleavage that I want to bury my face in. I’ve done it before. I still remember how they felt in my hands as I’d watch her throw her head back in pleasure.
The bright white makes her tanned skin glow, and I can’t swallow. My mouth is suddenly desert-dry while the rest of me is burning hot.
When she’s fully out of the robe, she turns and tosses it over the lounger, showing off the back of her bikini. The bottoms are wedged between the full, round cheeks of her heart-shaped ass.
My hands twitch on the phone. I can still remember exactly how those curves fit into my palms, how soft they felt when I kneaded them while she gasped my name.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, earning a few mutterings from the guests beside me.
I shrink further down the lounger, not only in embarrassment but because my dick is once again betraying me and getting hard at the mere sight of her.
She steps out of her flip-flops and walks down the pool steps. I pull my knee up because the structural problem I have is not resolving itself and after my accidental curse; I don’t want to be banned from the pool.
My dick is now painfully hard, straining against my shorts like it has a personal vendetta against me. I flip the phone screen-down on my chest, tip my head back, and stare at the empty sky as though it might grant me mercy. It doesn’t. Every detail is burned in my memory anyway: the white fabric against her skin, the way the bikini rides up just enough to show the dimples above her ass, the slow sway as she descends the first step into the water.
I need her under me.
Right now.
Again.
And again.
Until neither of us can walk straight.
Was that shower last night not enough?
Get it together, Evans.
You’re the first overall pick. You are a fully functioning adult. You have spent every single day of the last five years wanting her. Your dick should be used to that by now.
She’s waist deep already, and that white suit is doing nothing to hide her pebbling nipples from the cold. I can’t help but watch a droplet of water slide down the valley between her breasts, tracing paths I want to follow with my tongue.
She pushes off the edge and starts swimming, so I pick up my phone and manage, through what can only be described asa heroic act of discipline, to read through the Ascent contract. Then I check the Raptors group chat, which is mostly Dax sending memes about being the new guy.
Honey does her laps while I sort through the rest of my emails and even though this is how she probably wants it, it’s slowly killing me.
She’s right there.
She does a few more laps, and when she pulls herself up over the edge, I’m not going to describe it. Not because I’m noble, but because if I let myself catalog the way the wet fabric molds to her, the way droplets trace the dip of her spine straight down to where the string disappears between those cheeks, or the way her thighs tense and release as she swings a leg over the lip of the pool, I will lose what’s left of my goddamn mind right here on this lounger.
I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper just to keep from groaning.
Thankfully, she wraps the robe back around herself, picks up her book, and walks back toward the glass doors without looking in my direction once.
